Rise and Fall
by O PolemArch
Summary: A contingent of Deathwing veterans battles the undead Necrons and take casualties. First episode in a series entitled Brothers of the Sword.
1. Chapter 1

**Brothers of the Sword**

**Episode 1: Rise and Fall**

A/N: This is a re-post of a story I've taken down earlier. It was becoming unweildly and so when I finished the last part, I decided to break the single story up into episodes, and changed a little of the content. As a side note, bear in mind that the first episode was one of the very first things I'd written for almost four years ago, and although I've edited the chapters slightly since then, I still believe my newer work is much better. If you've read this part and think it could use improvement, feel free to give advice but perhaps try Episodes 2 and 3 first. Enjoy.

A lone scout quietly snuck along in the darkness of the ruined city, the sound of gunfire and explosives carrying dully through the streets. He had his pistol out and knife unsheathed, but really had no intention of using either, as it more than likely would neither harm the necrons nor help his brethren. The scout then pulled a strange looking device from his armor and began unfolding parts of it. He pressed a button on it, and when it started glowing faintly, he set it on the ground and backed up several yards. He tapped his vox mike twice, indicating to his sergeant that he was in position and that the operation could begin when ready. A tap in his earphones confirmed that he had been heard. All that remained was to sit and wait.

Aboard the orbiting battle barge Lion's Honor, all was noise and activity. Crew and servitors went back and forth, officers shouted orders, techpreists chanted as they went about repairs, and all was busy as one would expect aboard one of the Most Holy Emperor's finest warships. All was busy, of course, except for in the teleport room of the mighty vessel. Inside, the only person that was moving was the tech adept controlling the teleporter machinery. The rest simply knelt on the floor of the ship. Not that it made them any less imposing. As they muttered their prayers under their breath, a transmission was relayed through the ship to the young master who knelt in front of his battle brothers. It consisted of three words: "Gladius, zone prepared." Though he was irritated at having his prayer interrupted-Never interrupt a man who is praying, not good for the soul-these words were all he needed to know. He rose to his feet and called to his brothers.

"We will strike!" He announced.

"With the sword of Vengeance!" They replied.

"We will fly!"

"On the wings of Retribution!"

"We will cleanse!"

"With the flames of Devastation!"

"For the Lion!"

"And the Emperor!"

"Till the sword is reforged!"

This last was yelled by Gladius along with his entire honor guard. At this, the master, Brother Gladius, pointed at the teleport operator, and with a flash of blue light reflecting off their bone-white armor and a roaring noise, they disappeared.

The lone scout saw the blue flash near the teleport homer and smiled. His most revered battle brothers had arrived. The Necrons, he thought, would soon know the power of the Deathwing.


	2. Chapter 2

Brother Gladius had known that the situation was serious, but he didn't realize the extent of the problem until he landed on the planet. The Imperial forces had, strategically, been caught totally by surprise. No one had seen the slightest indication over the years that this was in fact a tomb-world, but now the Necrons were emerging from their ancient catacombs beneath the planet's surface in droves. Were it not for the fact that this planet just happened to be the homeworld for a full regiment of Imperial Guard, all would be lost. Even an entire battle company of Space Marines could never hold back the uncounted hordes of undead warriors that had reawakened. He grimaced as he studied the tactical display projected in his left eye from the implant in his cheek. Necrons had emerged from the ground in the southwest quarter of the city, in the swampy canal zone, and were advancing on the Imperial held fortress near the center. There was also a small Necron force advancing from the north, probably as a diversion from the main attack. He saw his squad, represented by a broken sword, situated just south of the Necron formation. Scout squads had been infiltrated throughout the city and were feeding numbers and information to their commanders. Gladius tuned his vox and listened to the radio chatter for a moment.

"...new contact, monoliths, three of them..."

"Shots fired, shots fired, Necrons spotted at grid five mark two-three!"

"Incoming!"

"Fire mission! 'Crons in the open!"

"Reinforcements requested, repeat, reinforcements requested, at point bravo…"

"They've breached the outer perimeter! Repeat, they've breached the out-"

He didn't like what he heard.

Dark Angel Librarian Colias stood on the parapet of the imperial fortress. Ostensibly, he was looking out over the city, but in reality, he saw none of the landscape laid out magnificently before him. Rather, his attentions were directed at the ebb and flow of the warp. He could feel the necron crypts disgorging more warriors, the tomb spiders and wraiths moving through the streets. These, however, while of some concern, were not what he was thinking about. Instead, he was searching with his mind, for something...intangible. He had felt it earlier, and was intrigued by it. It stood out from the rest of the Necron force...Aha! He had it...only what was it? It felt strong, confident... definitely intelligent... and his eyes widened in realization. He called out to his brethren with his mind, hoping that there was yet time...

All of the commanders in the imperial force, Gladius included, suddenly heard a very loud voice in their heads:

IMPERIAL COMMANDERS, BEWARE. A C'TAN HAS ARISEN. ALL BE WARY. DEATHWING, I WILL JOIN YOU SHORTLY. ADVANCE ON THE CTAN'S POSITION AND DESTROY HIM. LION'S HONOR, I REQUIRE AN EMERGENCY POINT TO POINT TELEPORT TO THE LOCATION OF BROTHER GLADIUS. COLIAS OUT++

This, though the young Gladius as another of those characteristic blue flashes erupted mere meters from his face- ought to be interesting.


	3. Chapter 3

Master Gladius, now joined by Brother-Librarian Colias, advanced relentlessly forwards. Shrapnel and bolt casings, bolts and gaus rounds zipped trough the air, occasionally connecting with a massive hulk of bone white armor. However, such was the quality of the plating that most rounds simply bounced off, and those that impacted squarely rarely got further than an inch or so into the armor. Those members of the squad carrying storm bolters snapped shots off at intervals. A squad of Necrons was leveled by one massive blast of bolter fire, and those that got back up were cut down by the claws and swords of the Deathwing. Gladius was enjoying himself. As the squad rounded the next corner, they ran right into another squad of Necrons. He drew his power sword, and swung forward. A machine had tried to block the blow using it's rifle, but the blade, crackling with energy, simply passed through the weapon and then it's bearer.

Colias, on the other hand, was becoming angry. He could feel every blow being dealt by either side. A Necron blasted here, a marine eviscerated here, an explosion, a teleportation- he felt all of it. Especially the marines. His fighting became intense- every necron he killed with his long force sword more satisfying than the last, and every lost comrade more enraging. He continued to move forward, a purpose in his stride.

Gladius, no stranger to the emotions of his brothers-at-arms, saw that the librarian was building himself up for a massive strike, a psychic blow of immense proportions, designed to destroy the C'Tan and send it back to where it came from in one swift stroke. Realizing that he had to clear a path for the psycher, he urged his men forward.

"Strike, brothers! We hunt the leader! We bring death anew!"

Down they rushed, as fast as their hulking terminator armor would carry them, destroying anything in their path, living or not. The librarian, at this point, was seething. His eyes were glowing and blue lightning ran up and down from his sword to his eyes. His anger was becoming an aura- it goaded his men on and instilled a certain hesitation in the metallic minds of his foes. The Necrons felt fear-or as close to fear as the walking dead could experience-as the librarian cut down more and more of their number.

Finally, they came to their objective. Bodies were strewn around. Fires burned. In the center of a large plaza, ringed by ruined buildings, a massive, towering presence stood. Its skin seemed to change color with the light and flow up and down its body. The battle was on.

"Brothers, form a perimeter and destroy the machines! Brother Colias and I shall take him! For the Emperor!"

Colias and Gladius rushed forward. Colias rushed to the right, lighting up a path with the power of his mind, while Gladius strode forward, pumping round after round into the C'Tan. He was irritated that the bolts simply seemed to fly through the monster. They reached it at the same time. Colias stepped forward and swung upward, and then fluently brought his sword down and to the side to avoid a returning blow from the great figure. He once again took a massive stroke, this time causing the god to stick out a limb to try to deflect it. Gladius, taking advantage of this opportunity, dropped his storm bolter to the floor and took both hands on his sword, stabbing forward toward the gut of the beast. While he couldn't seem to administer a penetrating, stabbing blow, it was a distraction. The monster struck back, outraged at having what it saw as a pitiful human stick a metal object in its side. It swung its arm into the young master, throwing him out to the side and into a nearby wall. He fell to the ground.

Meanwhile, Colias continued sparring with one of the other limbs. He became yet angrier, as every time he swung, the arm seemed to disappear and reappear somewhere else, and taunt him. In his fury, he failed to notice that his brother had been thrown to the side, and now the other arm was free. As he took yet another fruitless swipe, the other arm came down and hit him in the legs. It sent him to the floor.

The god paused. It was amused, looking at the pitiful figure in blue armor and white robes below him. Such power wasted in the form of a human. Thinking itself victorious, it began floating slowly away towards the imperial fortress, intent on killing more people.

Colias felt every thought. He was furious, even lying there on the ground, slowly dying. In fact, he was so angry, he didn't even notice when he began to float off the ground, even as he was clawing his way forward. He didn't notice that his legs were crumpled into a mess of metal and blood. In fact, he didn't even notice until he came up behind the C'tan, and by some instinct put into him from years of fighting, stabbed his sword deep into the back of the god. Instantly, their minds were at war. Colias fought with his fury, and the god with its immense power. Energy swirled around the pair and arched back and forth between the two. The other terminators in the squad, who had just finished off a squad of warriors, stopped and watched this display. The roar was deafening. Unbeknownst to his colleagues, however, Colias knew and could feel that despite all his efforts that he was loosing this battle. The C'Tan's power was simply too great. Nothing in him, neither his hundred years of training nor his genetically enhanced physique nor his faith, could have destroyed that immense will that leveled itself against him. Desperately, fearing failure above all things, he called out for help in his mind- to anyone, anywhere...to his own god, the Emperor of Man...

Thousands of light years away, deep inside the throne room on Terra, a master of the Adeptus Custodes sat at his post, faithfully monitoring the status of the instruments that kept the immortal Emperor living. He had held this position for years, and despite its monotony, he had been honored to sit in this chair, and watch the arcane dials and meters. All his life, his training had led to this, and he was satisfied. He did his job well. Nothing ever malfunctioned, changed, or otherwise happened- the tech adepts were very good at their jobs and maintenance.

Something today, however, felt odd to him... Not wrong…just different. Not normal, in some way. Suddenly, as if in response to his feelings, something changed. The power levels, psychic emissions... everything-suddenly jumped! The levels went up 5... 10...40... they going up and up! Something was not right! His lord the Emperor... Something was happening to him! The adept was, in fact, so distressed, that he was about to push the emergency buttons, call in all of the techs... when, just as suddenly as they had changed, they returned to normal. He looked from dial to dial, meter to meter... checked, checked again, and triple checked... but all was well. It was as if nothing had happened at all.

Colias, still struggling with the C'Tan, was on the brink of failure. He felt darkness closing in, felt the elation the being radiated as it defeated another pathetic human... when abruptly everything flew back into focus. All was bright light, bright golden light, and for a moment, he could see, standing by his side, a tall figure clothed in shining white armor that seemed to posses a golden aura. The figure was handsome and had a face that beamed confidence. This man, it seemed, lifted the librarian with his mind, and taking the librarian's force sword in his hands like a father would hold a tool with his son, lent his strength to the blow. Together, they smote the vile presence from the battlefield. There was a huge blast of energy- and Colias fell to the floor, fading fast. He remained conscious long enough to see Brother Gladius rushing to his side, a look of awe on his face.


End file.
